TBA
by Shelby Shelley
Summary: Why are there never any stories about Satine and HER life?


Title: TBA

Author: Kryssi Louise

Rating: Potential R... but for this chapter PG

Description: Why aren't there any fics about Satine and HER life?! 

Archive: If anyone is willing to take this story and post it on a web page, let me know first, please!

Disclaimer: Anything and everything to do with Moulin Rouge, belongs to Baz! Oh great and powerful wizard!! 

Feedback: Totally get back to me! love to hear the feedback!And if anyone has any suggestions for a title, i'd love to hear them!

'Come back here!' His screams only made me run harder. I was sure my heart would pound out of my chest and that my burning lungs might explode from the sharp breaths I gasped for, but my legs kept going.

It had been the perfect plan. I would wait for him to fall asleep in a drunken stupor, then I could grab my already packed bag and be out the door, and long gone before he even woke up. It was perfect, until I was just about out the door when I remembered my mother's diamonds. I had spent my childhood protecting them from the pawnshop or a game of poker; I could not leave them now. With a feeling of ice in the pit of my stomach I quickly dashed into my bedroom once more. My hands quietly opened the dresser drawer to lovingly grab a handkerchief that contained a glittering diamond necklace and earrings. Absent minded I let the drawer shut loudly and I heard him grunt from over on the bed. In a whirlwind of action I darted for the door. I screamed as a hand grabbed my arm and I spun around and bit my captor. I let out another scream as the side of my head was filled with pain and I could hear a horrible tearing noise. I knew there was a hand full of hair I had left behind. He yelled after me as only by a miracle I darted out the door and began to run. Soon enough my feet felt like they never even touched the ground. I was flying away. I was leaving it all. All the hurt, the screaming, the yelling, the touching, the drinking, the pain, I was leaving it for yesterday.

Sitting down on the train I let myself relax. I leaned my head against the window and looked at my reflection. Dull blue eyes and a pale complexion stared back at me. The only bit of interesting colour was that of my deep, fiery red hair. I let out a sigh. I thought I would feel happy now that I was finally free, but instead I felt...numb. 

'All aboard!' 

Refocusing my eyes, I watched the people on the platform scurry to catch the train before it left. However in the midst of all the people there was a young couple who did not move. Instead they seemed to cling to each other more desperately. Only when the train whistle blew one last time and the train lurched forward a bit, did the man lean down and kiss the woman before tearing himself away. Tears were streaming down her face as she watched him. He found a seat ahead of me and quickly pulled down the window so he could lean out. Reaching out to her, their hands connected. 'I love you!' She called to him as she walked with the moving train, picking up her pace as it moved faster. 'Until my dying day, darling!' He leaned out as far as he could and kissed her hand before he absolutely had to let go. Eyes still locked, they watched each other until the train was flying along the tracks and the station was long out of view.

Until his dying day, I wonder when that will be of even if his love will last that long. I had never been in love, but I had come to the conclusion that I never wanted to. It would be like standing in front of this oncoming train and not moving; you only opened yourself up for deep-rooted pain. No, I had decided that I would never fall in love. 

Instead I would become a famous actress in Paris. All the papers would talk about me, because I would be as great as Sara Burnhart and one of the youngest to ever achieve such stage honours. I imagined standing in the middle of a stage; a carpet of roses thrown at my feet as thousands stood applauding me. The sound of hands clapping together would sweep over me like a large tidal wave and I would be consumed in its glory.

'Ticket?' 

'Thank you. No autographs, please.' Still in my fantasy I smiled up at the man standing beside me. He gave me an odd look and replied 'Ticket?'

'Oh.' With cheeks red enough to match my hair, I handed the conductor my ticket. He stamped it and moved on down the coach. 

Leaning my head against the glass once more, I went back to watching the scenery pass by quickly, as the train whisked me away to a new life.

Only after the train had stopped and the conductor woke me up, did I relies that I had fallen asleep. It took a moment to grasp my surroundings since my thoughts still lingered with the horrible nightmare that had plagued my sleep.

'We have reached Paris, love. This is your stop.' 

'Thank you.' Remembering to pick up my bag I began to file out with all the other passengers. Stepping off the train and onto the platform was like stepping into a new world. People scurried about. One woman in a large fur coat yelled at a small young man in a blue uniform, as piles of her luggage toppled over onto the ground. I managed to navigate my way past them and out onto the street.

I clung to the handle of my bag as I looked around me. Fear and excitement caused the blood to pound in my ears as I took in my surroundings. Buildings towered over me and every single space seemed to be jammed with people or motor cars. Horses pulling buggies behind them clopped over the cobble stones, stopping to pick up people, only to trot off to an unknown destination. All the noise clashed together in a strange song of beeping horns, yelling people, crying babies, and distant accordion music. I could smell the lung clogging fumes from the motor cars and cigarette smoke from one man who stood, leaning against a wall, staring at me. Over come with a sudden burst of panic I took off down the street, letting my hungry stomach guide me to where I smelled freshly baked bread.

A tiny bell rang as I opened the door to the bakery. My stomach let out a low rumble as my nose was assaulted with the thick smell of flour and richly baked goods. 

'How might I help you, my dear?' A plump, good-natured looking woman wiped her hands on a towel before setting them down on the counter.

'A loaf of bread please.' 

'Anything else, lovely?' She put a loaf into a brown parcel wrap and waited for my answer.

'No that is all, thank you.' I counted out what little was left of my money and handed it to the lady with a smile. 

'You're new here aren't you?' The women said, as she looked me up and down.

Slowly I answered, 'yes.'

'Now, now, no need to get suspicious.' She laughed. 'I know everyone in this part of town and I was just wondering what a pretty, young lass like yourself is doing about?'

'Oh, well I'm going to be an actress.' I stood up straighter and flashed a smile. 'Actually, if you would be so kind, would you point me in the direction of the village of Montmartre?'

The women looked down cast a moment and I just caught what she said under her breath, 'another one.' Before she said, 'just keep following this road, you'll know when you've got there.'

Taking my bread I smiled and started to walk towards the door, 'Thank you.'

'Lovey, you should be careful there.'

I turned around and gave her a bit of a confused look and smiled once more, 'thank you, again.' I replied before hearing the tinkle of bells as I walked back onto the street. 

I walked for what seemed like ages. Passing person after person or stopping to look in a shop window I began to lose myself and forgot about how long it was taking to find Montmartre. Over half my loaf of bread was gone when I was starting to worry that I might have been given wrong directions. Just as I was about to ask if I was going the right way, an archway appeared in front of me with large letters that read _MONTMARTRE_. I stopped and stood in the middle of the street just to look at it. I had reached my destination. This is where all my dreams would come true. My old life would finally be left in the past and a new life full of glitters and fame would begin in a way that I could not even grasp at that moment. With stars in my eyes I walked towards the narrow street that led to my future. 

'Turn away from this village of sin!' A priest dressed in black with a crisp white collar, holding a Bible glared down at me as I passed him. I was starting to get the feeling there might be something about Montmartre that I had no idea about. All I had ever heard was that this was the place for artists, writers, actors, and musicians. This is where I belonged, why could people not see that? 

I gave the priest a bit of a cruel look, as if he was trying to snatch my dream away from me, and then walked on down the road. By the time I reached a place called _Bar Absinthe _the shadows in the street had become long and ominous. A chilled wind skipped threw an alley and sent shivers down my back. The atmosphere had somehow changed at sunset. Cheerful music had stopped and people were shutting themselves in for the night. I needed to find a place to stay and I thought the quicker the better. Against my better judgment, I was about to walk into the _Bar Absinthe _when a muscular man appeared at the door holding what looked like a boy by the scruff of the neck.

'Lautrece, get out of my bar! You're sketches aren't going to pay you're way this time!' He threw the lad onto the cobblestones followed moments later by a walking stick and a sketchbook.

'How dare you! You pig!' The apparent artist stood up to revel he was actually a dwarf. The man shook his fist at the door as it slammed shut before picking up his sketches and lovingly dusting them off. 'Would you mind handing me my walking stick, pwees?' He spoke with a lisp as he looked at the stick on the ground by my feet.

'Oh, of course.' I obliged his request.

'Thank you, mademoiselle...' He looked at me searching for a name.

'Satine.'

'Ah, what a wonderful name. You are new here, no?'

'Yes, yes I am. I just got here today actually and I wondered if you couldn't help me find a place to stay.' 

'Ah, my dear, I know the pwrfect pwace!' He waved his cane and hobbled off down the road. I stood watching him. Not sure if I should really follow a perfect stranger. He stopped to look back at me, 'my dear, wiw you fowow?' I made up my mind and caught up with him besides, he seemed harmless enough. After all, what harm could a dwarf who needed a walking stick possibly bring to a person? 


End file.
